ti^: 



im'm OF CONGRESS. 



s^ 






UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



IN THE FIELDS 



BY 



MARY E. N. HATHEWAY 




^O(ol^l' 



BOSTON 
D. LOTHROP & COMPANY 

FRANKLIN STREET CORNER OF HAWLEY 



"PS / « t^ 



COPYRIGHT BY 

D. LOTHROP & CO. 



M. M. H. 

Who, while the dreams of vanished days shall hover 
In light and shade above the page she reads, 

May here and there some simple flower discover, 
Unseen by others 'mid the grass and weeds. 



CONTENTS. 



In the Fields 9 

Noon ^3 

To-Morrow ^5 

Live and Lose '7 

An Old Portrait ^9 

Hope 22 

The Last Voyage 24 

Indian Summer 27 

Happiness 3° 

The Sphinx 32 

Light and Shade 34 

The Unfinished 3^ 

Sing On 3S 

Likeness ^o 

Morning-Glories . 41 

Resignation 43 

Pandora . 45 

The First Flower 4^ 



vi CONTENTS. 

My Dream * 5' 

Parted . . . 54 

Endymion 5° 

Silence With a Friend 5^ 

Everlasting ^ 

Common Things ^^ 

Youth ^5 

Gathering Trailing Arbutus 67 

Undine 7© 

A Butterfly in Autumn 7i 

The Saxifrage . 74 

The Lover's Question 1^ 

The Brook 78 

Going Early . So 

Atalanta S2 

Each in Its Sphere 84 

Her Choice 86 

" We Have Need of all These Things " .... 88 

When I Am Gone " . 90 

The Seeker 93 

Doubt 96 

Autumn Song 9^ 

Beside a Grave loi 

The Mother's Child /. • .103 

Recognition • • .106 

Apples 108 

Tell Me m 

The Present Heaven 113 



CONTENTS. vii 

A Winter View 115 

Renewal. . 118 

VERSES FOR CHILDREN. 

Driving Home the Cows 123 

'• What I Would Do" . . . . . . .126 

Second Childhood . . *_ . . . . .128 

Pat's Doll 132 

Birds in Autumn 135 

The Dead Horse .137 

Red-Riding-Hood , . 140 

Give and Take - . . 142 

Cradle Song 144 

Wishing and Working 147 

Grandmother's Cap 149 

Little Sister 152 

The Organ Player .-154 

Brother's Bedtime 156 

Pop-Corn .158 

The Snow-Bird 160 

Counting the Cost . 162 



IN THE FIELDS. 

IN the fields, that far and wide 
Reach from dawn to sunset line, 
Through all chance and change abide 
Treasure and estate of mine. 

Blessed are my vales and hills 
Overspread by happy flocks, 

Watered by unnumbered rills 

Flashing 'mid the trees and rocks. 

Whence my title, wouldst thou know ? 

Not for monies duly told, 
Not by deeds of valid show 

I my acres count and hold ; — 



lO IN THE FIELDS. 

But by law these forms above — 
Old as time, yet ne'er outgrown, — 
" What we recognize and love 

In very truth, becomes our own." 

So may we obtain supplies 

From the knowledge earth has won, 

From the ordering of the skies, 
From the affluence of the sun. 

And by kindred senses line 
In this life of each in all, 

I have heritage divine, 
I am linked to great and small. 

I am wiser, that the rose 

Blossoms with her radiant throng, 
That the untaught birdling knows 

All his wondrous arts of son^:. 



IN TUK FIELDS. 

Richer, for the gold-dust poured 
On the wings of butterflies, 

And the cells with honey stored 
That the cunning bees devise. 

Not the summer only shares 
Royal bounty with my fields, 

Every season harvest bears 
And unfailing fortune yields. 

Thus, free largess I receive, 
While the owners of the soil. 

Labor on from dawn till eve, 
Worn and bowed with care and toil 

Nature unto them is dear 
Only to be bought and sold ; 

Not for them her works are fair. 
And her oracles are told. 



12 IN THE FIELDS. 

Though with broader-reaching years 
Still I add to my estates, 

Naught of mine conflicts with theirs, 
Neither for the other waits: 

While my portion's guarded well 

In creation's living soul, 
They hold fast the form, the shell, 

Dreaming they possess the whole. 



NOON. 

THOU perfect hour of radiant sky, 
And blooming eartli, and sparkling sea! 
Where'er my shadowy fancy turns, 
Thy flashing glories answer me. 
Oh ! touch this dazzling world with change. 
Invoke the breezes loitering nigh, 
And beckon yonder fleecy cloud 
To veil thy light too keen and high. 



Go, hasten from the zenith down 
Into the lowlands of the west. 
Where folded blossoms nod and dream. 
And vespers soothe the soul to rest; 



M 



Invite the starry flocks abroad, 
Where Hesperus shall lead the way. 
Thy crown and sceptre lay aside, 
And shut the golden gates of day. 



Then, in the dew-fall soft and cool, 
With pensive step I'll wander on. 
And backward glance of dim regret 
For that which is forever gone ; 
And wearing thus that mystic charm 
So sweetly sad to feel and tell 
That clings to all departed things, 
I'll think of thee and love thee well. 



TO-MORROW. 

CHILDREN, we come at eventide 
Our weariness and griefs to tell, 
And trust the wise maternal voice, 
" To-morrow, love, will all be well." 

And farther on, when rougher ways 
Stretch long before our shrinking eyes, 

The heart will hush its sighs to dream 
Of rest that in To-morrow lies. 

Whate'er the triumphs of to-day. 

The present joys wherein we share. 
This promise lures us still beyond — 
" To-morrow holds a gift more fair." 



l6 TO-MORROW. 

All art, all Nature that we know, 
Of highest beauty, noblest use. 

Grows dim before the fancied shapes 
That some To-morrow may produce. 

The fleet magician flies uncaught 
From star to star, from sun to sun, 

While our untiring steps pursue 

With hopes that mortal years outrun. 

And when our utmost earth is reached, 
Fast holding the Eternal Hand, 

We go with childlike faith to find 
To-morrow in the Heavenly Land. 



LIVE AND LOSE. 

IF life retained its gifts in time's despite, 
Beyond the touch of losses and decay, 
Till climbing upward in the long-drawn light 
They reached the summit of their perfect day ; 

If beauty kept for us its morning glow, 
No petal shedding in the sun or rain. 

And warbling summer stayed, untaught to know 
The hush of autumn on its glad refrain ; 

Alas! when sovereign of the safe, bright years. 
Above the stress of daily want and care. 

The spirit would recall its hopes and fears, 
Glad in the mortal heritage to share. 



l8 LIVE AND LOSE. 

For 'tis not joy to bask in sure delight, 
Nor wealth to reach completion of desire ; 

The victories are snatched from hours in flight, 
And harvests gathered through the frost and tire. 

Let the bud bloom, fade, and exhale in air ; 

Let youth's enchantments vanish as they choose, 
With no returning, else were they less fair. 

For this is best, to bravely live and lose, 



AN OLD PORTRAIT 

NOTHING but canvas and paint ! 
Of years that are vanished a part ! 
But an image of exquisite truth, 
In the radiant fulness of youth 
Embalmed by the magic of art. 

What were her name and estate 
No record or legend has told, 
Nor whose was the skill to combine 
Such marvelous color and line, 
Nor if 'twere for love or for gold. 

Let the past the fair mystery hold 
Aloof from to-day's tell-tale breath; 



AN OLD PORTRAIT, 

I dream, standing here by its side, 
She was noble in beauty and pride, 
Noble in life, and in death. 

Note the gracious breadth of the brow, 
And the sweet gaze that turns not awa}'. 
But follows you near and afar, 
Like a faithful, beneficent star, 
O'erruling the night and the day. 

Love dwelt in her soul as a flame, — 
Oh, mark you her mouth's regal curv^e ! 
A flame mounting higher and higher. 
Born and fed from celestial fire. 
That ne'er from its birthright could swerve. 

Her hand consummate in grace, 
Were a hand to clasp for a friend ; 
Most constant and tender and strons:, 



AN OLD PORTRAIT. 

When days were most bitter and long. 
Clasping on and on to the end. 

Dead and in dust years ago ! 
A century's glamour and gloom 
May liave drifted over her head, 
Till friends and kindred have sped, 
And the world has forgotten her tomb : 

Yet I dream by the picture that waits, 
The sphinx without motion or breath, 
Of something that still doth abide 
Of the noble in beauty and pride, 
The noble in life and in death. 



HOPE. 

"¥ T That though to-day have slow and dreary dawning, 
~ " All chilled and whitened by December's storm ? 
I feel the pulses of approaching summer 
Beneath the snow-drift beating fast and warm. 

And soon the honeyed blossom of the meadow 
Shall be again the wandering insect's mark ; 

The woodland lake shall have its whispering sedges, 
The eve its glow-worm, and the heaven its lark. 

And I shall have thee, thee, my own heart's chosen, 
The bloom and music of my earth and sky. 

Content I wait the rapture of thy coming, 
Nor snatch at barren pleasures fleeting by. 



HOPE. 23 



Oh, happy lot to me the fates have granted! 

Not mine the part o'er loss and wrong to grieve; 
I see new joys forever hastening towards me, 

I sing through shade and sunshine, and believe. 



THE LAST VOYAGE. 

" /^^H ! sail no more the treacherous seas," 
^^^ Cried Margery, gazing down the bay. 
'The winds and waves may claim thy Hfe, 
Then what my breaking heart can stay ?" 

But cheerily her lover spoke, 

Dispelling fears with tender scorn ; 

I go in search of jewels rare, 
My Margery's beauty to adorn. 

" One voyage more, and 'tis the last ; 

Then I return to seek my bride, 
And lead her forth in rich array. 

The fairest of the country-side." 



THE LAST VOYAGE, 2.S 

Sweet fortune 'twere, indeed, " she said, 
" To be the chosen queen of girls ; 
But hearts may only wear, one crown, 
And love is more than gold and pearls." 

The winds blew fresh across the main, 

And called the goodly ship to go ; 
And so they parted, murmuring oft, 
•' 'Tis the last farewell we shall know." 



One on the sea, and one on shore. 
One strong to dare, and one to wait ; 

And one goes down in storm and wreck, 
And one in calm moves on to fate. 

The tides come in, the tides go out, 
While Margery wanders to and fro, 

Forever gazing towards the sea. 

The cruel sea that wrouc:ht her woe. 



26 THE LAST VOYAGE. 

A whiteness gathers on her cheek, 

And streaks too soon her golden curls ; 
" Ah, me ! " she moans, in tearless pain, 
" True love is more than gold and pearls. 

And, dreaming of life's jewel lost. 

She drifts unfearing to the sea — 
The silent sea, that brings none back ; 
" The last voyage ! " sighed poor Margery. 



INDIAN SUMMER. 

AS a fond mother when the day-time closes. 
Anxious to keep her loved ones in her sight, 
Goes yet again to hover round their pillows, 
To give another kiss, one more " good-night ; " 

So the kind Summer when her hours are counted. 
Clings to the life that she has made so fair; 

Though spent and wasted are her royal treasures, 
And shattered lie the idols of her care. 

Where she so late as sovereign queen of Nature 
Held her high court, and ruled her realm alone. 

Now she must play the part of maid of honor, 
In meek submission to a rival throne. 



28 INDIAN SUMMER. 

Often by frosts and Boreal blasts affrighted, 
Adown the south reluctantly she hies ; 

And then comes softly back when storms are ended, 
With messasres of orladness from the skies. 



Among the vaporous hills she loves to tarry, 
Where spicy perfumes linger on the breeze 

That wanders idly round the yellow farm-lands, 
Catching faint echoes of the harvest glees. 

The woods and groves though shorn of early splendors, 

Beneath her smiles a fitful joy confess; 
And all the landscape waiting in her presence 

Seems leaning towards her for a last caress : 

Waiting in pensive silence, memory-haunted. 
Steeped in the languid sweetness of her breath, 

While with regretful steps the fair enchantress 
Goes down the deepening twilights to her death. 



INDIAN SUMMER. 

Staying to charm, till she can charm no longer; 

Then, dying 'mid the scenes she lived to cheer. 
Leaving the sad-voiced days a requiem chanting 

Over the martyred beauty of the year. 



29 



HAPPINESS. 

COULD any power command thy stay, 
Or charm thy fleeting step delay, 
And all our times and seasons course 
In one unbroken joyous way ; — 

Could it be thus, the sated heart 
Would never know thee as thou art; 
Thy fairest phases only shine 
When thou art ready to depart. 

No skilled device of lock or bar 
Can keep thee near, or hold thee far ; 
No outward rank that fortune lends 
Thy inward grace can make or mar. 



HAPPINESS. 

Our mortal sense may not disown 
Thy spells celestial round us thrown. 
With constant steps we follow thee, 
And venture all for thy unknown. 

Yet, thy pursuers fail to snare 
Thy essence subtile as the air, 
While they who have forgotton thee 
May chance to meet thee unaware 

Then, wisest he who keeps his pace, 
Nor worships thy beguiling face, 
For whereso'er his path may lie 
Thou still canst find him in his place. 



THE SPHINX. 



SHE fronts the traveler as he goes, 
A power to threaten and beguile; 
And fear and love awake before 

Her lion strength, her woman smile. 



She bids him seek her mystery, 

And solve her riddle strange and dim 

With art and wisdom matched against 
The doom that waits to conquer him. 



But vain the contest and the toil, 
The weary heart, the wasted breath 

The mystic meaning still is veiled, 
And all endeavor ends in death. 



THE SPHINX. 33 

For, should her master-spirit rise, 
And lay her secret bare and free, 

She from her eminence must fall. 

And cease from strife, and cease to be. 

O life ! whose subtle charm allures. 

O life ! whose will inviolate 
Forever challenges the soul 

To solve the myster}' of fate : 

And strive where it shall not attain, 
And grasp at shadows that elude ; 

Till, faltering, it quits the chase, 
And leaves the tempter unsubdued. 



LIGHT AND SHADE. 

O FAIREST rose the garden knows ! 
This hour your brightest hues display 
With leafy show each thorn o'ergrow, 
Behold ! the Fairest comes this way. 

O sunshine ! lay your gentlest ray 
Upon the earth as she draws near ; 

Such comfort spread beneath her tread 
That she may find contentment here. 

O happy thrush ! no longer hush, 
But pour your melodies around. 

Till soul and sense in sweet suspense 
Shall deem the place enchanted ground. 



LIGHT AND SHADE. 35 

O laughing stream ! with wavering gleam 

Responsive to each airy thrill, 
Her waiting heart untaught by art 

With dreams of bliss and beauty fill. 

She comes, she goes ; shut wasted rose. 
No longer flaunt your splendors vain ; 

Discordant bird, no more be heard ! 
Your song her steps can ne'er detain. 

Hide, sunshine, hide your glaring pride. 
Flow, sighing stream, in sadness on ; 

For color flies, and music dies, 

And light is shade now she is gone. 



THE UNFINISHED. 

WHEN in Aladdin's hall the genii wrought, 
With potent spell that mortals never knew, 
Till, shaped in order 'neath their magic thought 
The splendid marvel grew ; 

To rare completion, as a flower might blow 

With radiant swiftness in the morning air, — 
One casement stood amidst the glittering show 
Left unadorned and bare. 

And though all cunning men their powers invoke 
With priceless gems to deck the vacant place ; 
No learned skill could match the spirit-stroke 
Unruled by time and space. 



THE UNFINISHED. 37 

Thus did the master-genius of our day 
The palaces of fiction plan and build, 
While forms made glorious from earth's common clay 
The magic structures filled. 



But when too suddenly the fire grew cold. 

And worlds no more its luminous wonders greet, 
One shadowed *" mystery" is left untold, 
A statue incomplete. 

And passing vain must all attempt be found 

To touch the sacred work with equal hand. 
The beauteous fragment with its secret crowned 
Forever thus must stand. 

*"The Mystery of Edwin Drood.-' 



SING ON. 

SING on, O nightingale ! 
The winds are cold and high 
The stars are few and pale, 

The gathering storm is nigh ; 
A thorn is at thy- breast 
That fain would do thee wrong ; 

But lull thy pain to rest, 
And drown the storm with song. 



Bloom bravely on, O flower ! 

Thy fragrant gifts repeat. 
Nor shrink for drenching shower, 

Nor waste for noontide heat; 



SING ON. 39 

Haste with thy garlands fair 

Before the frost and snow, 
And strow with bounteous care 

A grave that Hes below. 

Sing on, and bloom, O heart ! 

Though evil days endure, 
Though fondest lovers part, 

And only grief seem sure ; 
Life shall retrieve the hours. 

For Heaven alone is long ; 
Then strow thy graves with flowers, 

And still thy sighs with song. 



LIKENESS. 

AS Clytie in her raptured dreaming 
Forgot her nature's wonted ways, 
Put on the sun-god's flowery seeming, 
And never more withdrew her gaze ; 

Thus, countless Hves some fervid vision 
With potent force may warp and sway. 

Until in beauty or derision 

They bear its stamp and doom for aye 

O soul ! beware thy ruling passion, 
Since all the fates about it throng 

To bend and shape thee to its fashion, 
To wing thy flight, and tune thy song. 



MORNING-GLORIES. 

JENNY, the mistress and maid of the dairy. 
Over its window old-fashioned and bare 
A vine of the morning-glory is training. 

Veiling the place from the noon's vivid glare. 

Swiftly it climbs and surrounds the rude lattice. 
In joyous impatience its work to complete, 

Circled and crowned by its lightly poised blossoms 
Ever awake the first dawning to greet. 

Calling the bee from his feast in the clover. 

Tempting the butterfly still to delay. 
While hither and thither the humming birds darting. 

Snatch at their sweets and then vanish away. 



42 MORNING-GLORIES. 

The sunshine steals in through the wavering curtain, 
Now softened by shadows wherever it falls, 

While Jenny is busy with skimming and churning. 
Or moulding the butter in bright golden balls. 

Sometimes she pauses, and peeps from the casement 
Catching a song, or a whistle's refrain ; 

She knows who is coming, her stalwart young lover, 
Driving his oxen along the rough lane. 

And then she may linger perchance, in the doorway, 
A sentence of magical meaning to speak ; 

Again to her blithe round of duties returning. 
With sprightlier footstep, and rosier cheek. 

Fair is her window with vines over-shaded. 

With beauty and sweetness enclosing her room ; 

Fair is her life, with love's morning-glory 

Wreathing her heart with its fragrance and l)loom. 



RESIGNATION. 

^^ UMMER sighs with soft complaining, 
*^— ^ "Ah, my golden clays are waning! 
Yielding to the fates' bereaving 
I must lay my sceptre down : 
Swallow-flocks their ranks are filling, 
Locusts in the fields are shrilling, 
Moths their silken shrouds are weaving, 
And the grass is turning brown. 



I have drained my perfect measure 
Of desire, fruition, pleasure ; 
From the sun all-glorious springing, 
With the gitts of heavenly birth, — 



44 



RESIGNATION. 

I have poured from founts o'erflowing 
Streams of life in full bestowing, 
Floods of joy and beauty bringing 
To the barren hills of earth. 

Now in still, reposeful valleys 
1 but wait where noontide dallies, 
While round me deeper hover 
Forebodings sad yet sweet ; 
Soon my latest bloom shall wither. 
Soon the frosts my dews will gather, 
And the snows my footprints cover 
'Neath their pallid winding-sheet." 



PANDORA. 

ONCE there lived a beauteous maid 
Named Pandora, we are told ; — 
(This was many years ago, 
In the happy age of gold.) 

She had eyes of radiant light 

Ever seeking realms afar, 
Gazing on from day to day, 

Gazing on from star to star. 

And a box to her was brought 
Filled with gifts of value rare ; 

But the lid she must not raise, — 
Thus the oracles declare. 



46 



Long she kept her precious charge 
Clasped in faithful, fervent hands, 

Searching with her radiant eyes 
All the breadth of seas and lands. 

Then, at length, she pined to know 
What within the box was hid ; — 

So, the oracles forgot. 

Eagerly she raised the lid. 

But before her curious glance 

Could discern the wondrous things. 

Out abroad they quickly flew, 
Hastening off on dazzling wings. 

Then, Pandora all aghast 

At the mischief she had done, 

Closed the cover, but, alas! 
Every gift had flown save one. 



PANDORA. 47 

And the spirits shining-winged 

Came not back from sea or shore. 

Though she watched and waited there. 
Waited for them evermore ; 

Clasping close the fatal box, 

Searching still with radiant eyes 
All the hill-tops of the earth, ' 

All the hollows of the skies. 



THE FIRST FLOWER. 

UNDER the frozen sod and the snow-diift lying, 
Sleeping unheedful of frosts and tempestuous skies, 
Keeping its secret of being unchanged and undying, 
It waited its season to wake from the dust and arise. 

Unto its law submissive in willing devotion ; 

Forces unnumbered and mystical, pitiless, sweet, 
Wrought through the hours of darkness, decay and 
commotion, 

W^ith unwearied patience making its purpose complete. 

March with her free, wild step heralding winter's 
outgoing, 
Startled the sentient germ from its lingering trance; 



THE FrRST FLOWER. 49 

The south-wind's bugle anon, cheerily, hopefully blowing, 
Sounded o'er hill-top and valley the note of advance. 

Nearer the sunbeams drew, warming its chill earthy 
cover, 
Forth to the daylight beguiling it gently along; 
Over it flitted the blue-bird, April's rapturous lover. 
Seeking his last year's home with grateful tribute of 
song. 

Thou child of the fields, thou hast needed no sheltering 
garden. 
No artful endeavor to foster thy budding and bloom; 
Nature in primitive joy was thy nurse and thy warden, 
Appointing thy measure of beauty, thy mission and 
doom. 

O firsthng of blossoms! thou sayest to heart and to 
reason 
" Keep true thy ideals through all the world-changes 
and strife. 



50 THE FIRST FLOWER. 

With far-reaching patience beholding a consummate 
season 
That bears in its courses the perfect fruition of life." 

Oh ! but to yield me more flexile to infinite forces 
Calling with varied voices from morning till even, 

"Up! up! and away from the lowlands and earthly 
resources 
Into the sunshine and song and the breezes of Heaven." 



i 



MY DREAM. 

CLOSE are the walls that shut me in 
Amid the restless city's din, 
Where stern necessity demands 
Unceasing toil with brain and hands. 

For higher walls that intervene 

No glimpse of sun or sky is seen ; 

Alike the passing seasons show 

Through summer's bloom, and winter's snow. 

But, as the sea-shell evermore 
Divided from its native shore, 
Shall in its secret chambers keep 
The echo of the far-off deep ; 



52 MY DREAM. 

Thus I, from scenes I love apart, 
Still bear their image in my heart ; 
And visions come to solace me 
Of joyful worlds I may not see. 

I stroll at leisure in my dreams 
Beside fair, memory-haunted streams. 
Or lie at rest in easeful mood 
In sunlit glen or vernal wood; — 

Where the fresh springing grasses set 
With daisy, fern and violet. 
In wind-tossed waves about my bed 
Their soft, ambrosial odors shed. 

I hear beyond the noisy street 
The heifer's low, the lambkin's bleat, 
The rustle of the ripening grain, 
The tinkling waterfall's refrain. 



MY DREAM. 53 

Where Nature pours her choicest wine, 
And lavishes her gifts divine, 
My Fancy roams an honored guest, 
With golden wealth and freedom blessed. 

So I with patient hope may bear 
This weight of toil, restraint and care, 
Till they but only seem to be — 
My dream is my reality. 



PARTED. 

INTENT on every trace of thee I go, 
Searching the silent house from floor to floor, 
With footsteps lingering above, below, 

Spell-drawn wherever thine have trod before. 

Whatever in our blended yesterdays 

Was precious in thy sight by use or wear, 

Now, with a fairer meaning meets my gaze. 
Now, with a dearer value claims my care. 

I hoard each trifle as a jewel fine, 

As if such outward remnants frail and cold 

Were all that bound my being unto thine. 
Were all of thee that I could know, or hold : 



PARTED. 55 

Were all of thee — when in the realms unseen 
Of spirit- dwelling- thou art monarch yet; 

Leading me upward to the heights serene 
Above the storms of passion and regret. 

I would not call thee back by thought or sign 
To chase the shadow from my darkened sphere ; 

I will not pause to question or repine, 
Since thou art with me, though thou art not here. 

I stay, content, to walk with unclasped hand. 

No breath of spoken words to comfort me, 
Keeping through untold years in distant land 

This fond and faithful watch and ward for thee ; 

The while I dream, though each from each in place 
May be divided far as pole from pole, 

That no device of time, nor length of space 
Can sever us in truth, part soul from soul. 



ENDYMION. 

ON Latmos' heights, one fair midsummer eve, 
The beauteous shepherd boy in slumber lay. 
While round about him in the shadowy glades, 
Went all his flocks astray. 

The gleaming stars in azure spaces blent, 

The sheen and fragrance of the dew-wet flowers, 
The distant fountain's fall, the breeze's sigh. 
Tuned the delicious hours. 

Diana strolling through her sylvan haunts, 

With buskined feet that lightly pressed the ground, 
Thus found him sleeping, seemingly with more 
Than mortal radiance crowned. 



ENDYMION. 

Those who had sought her, suitors to her charms, 

She held in scorn, their homage to repel ; 
Invaders of her sacred walks had known 
Her vengeance swift and fell. 

She sat enthroned in silvery state afar, 

Or trod the earth majestic and serene. 
Unmoved by passion's ecstasy or pain. 
Of life and self the queen. 

But now she paused, rapt in a new delight, 

And as she softly bent his form above. 
Through her cold, vestal bosom sudden thrilled 
The sweet surprise of love. 

And while he l^y entranced beneath her gaze, 

Dreaming, unconscious of impending bliss. 
The goddess stooped, and breathed upon his lips 
A chaste, immortal kiss. 



57 



SILENCE WITH A FRIEND. 

OUT of the tumult of the crowded street, 
Far from the haunts where busy Traffic dwells, 
Where Travel hastens with unresting feet, 
And Fashion weaves her many-colored spells ; — 
Let us to fields and woodland walks repair, 
Where grassy banks and overarch uig trees 
Invite to fulness of repose, and there 
Together let us court Harpocrates. 

His "Hush!" is sweeter to the weary sense 
Than scholar's speech, or singer's bravest song, 
Or any utterance that art invents 
To brighten and beguile the hours along ; — 



SILENCE WITH A FRIEND. 59 

And resting in his easeful atmosphere, 
The soul shall miss awhile its burdening care, 
And skyward soar, renewing hope and cheer. 
With strength once more the world's wild clash 
to bear. 



EVERLASTING. 

DO I walk in the mist of dreams? 
Or is this the world that I knew. 
With its fields of emerald sheen, 
And skies of rapturous blue ; 
Its rivulets dancing in light, 
And gardens where odors prevail. 
Blending with music of birds 
Afloat on the tremulous gale? 

I search, but nothing remains 
Of those fair and wonderful hours. 
Only the whiteness and strength 
Of the pale everlasting flowers ; 



EVERLASTING. 6l 

Sighing for days that are gone. 
My grateful harvest I take ; 
Smiling for days that shall come, 
My hopeful garlands I make. 

And what is left thee, life ! 
When spring with its promise has fled. 
When summer's beauty and bloom 
With dust and ashes are spread. 
But to gather immortal flowers, 
Outlasting death and decay, 
And deep in thy heart of hearts 
Embalm their sweetness away? 



COMMON THINGS. 

GIVE me the common things of life, 
The good and ill of common fates, 
The tranquil middle ground that lies 
Between the high and low estates. 

The victories of place and power 

Their laurels for the brow may bind, 

While in the strife the heart is left 
To wander lonely, dumb and blind. 

Who knows the wondrous century-flower 
To find it precious ? call it sweet ? 

But dear we hold the lowly grass 
Softening the earth beneath our feet. 



COMMON THINGS. 63 

The eagle fronting from his cliff 

The sun and storm with dauntless eye, 

Owns not the gift of joy bestowed 
By tiniest warbler of the sky. 

The smallest or!) that nightly keeps 
From age to age its steadfast post, 

And only serves to faintly swell 
The brightness of the starry host; 

With happier meaning lives and shines, 

Than any meteor of a day 
That flashes through the fields of heaven 

With trail of splendor and dismay. 

These are life's best, the cheery r,e]p 

That daily crosses can beguile. 
The sunshine spirit, glad and strong, 

Dispelling shadows with a smile ; 



64 COMMON THINGS. 

The truth and faith, that build a fane 
Outlasting fame and princely dome, 

That light and keep in sacred charge 
The altar-flame of love and home. 



YOUTH. 

HE hastens from the mother's side, 
He leaves the friendly home behind. 
And restless wanders far and wide 
Another world to find :— 

A world that dawns upon his sight 
In dim, enchanted distance set, 

Gleaming with visions of delight, 
And all unconquered yet. 

The Past may cry with scornful power — 
"But Hfe is old, and false and stale, 

Man is the plaything of an hour, 
His strength of no avail ; " — 



66 YOUTH. 

He hears the Future's siren voice 
Chanting a weird, melodious call, 

And heart and sense a-flame rejoice. 
Responsive to its thrall. 

He climbs with onward purpose bent. 
Above the wrecks of Yesterday, 

As if through all the ages spent 
No foot had trod that way. 

For fruitless hope and wasted will 
Must not predestinate his doom ; 

Though countless buds have blighted, still 
For him the flower may bloom. 

O blessed ardor ! by whose worth 
Fresh, untried spirits dare and do. 

And keep this sad and toil-worn earth 
Forever bright and new. 



GATHERING TRAILING ARBUTUS. 

IN April, when the days were bright, 
And growing- longer in their scope, 
When buds were shaking off their sleep, 
And all the airs were full of hope ; 

We walked together, you and I, 

In mood that sometimes pensive grew ; 

For memories of a gladness passed 
Eclipsed the present to our view.. 

By crooked foot-paths faintly traced. 
Our way along the fields we took ; 

Climbed broken fence and loosened wall, 
And crossed the shallow, gliding brook. 



68 GATHERING TRAILING ARBUTUS. 

We reached the hills, beneath whose base 
The river flows with ceaseless sound, 

And, knowing the enchanted spot, 
Knelt with our faces to the ground. 

For those who come with lofty tread. 
And careless, undiscerning eyes, 

May often go with empty hands. 

Nor find this treasure where it lies. 

We brushed the withered leaves away, 
Old remnants of a worn-out year, 

And shouted with ecstatic glee, 
"The flower is here! the flower is here!" 

When crowned with spoils we homeward went. 
Our thoughts assumed a gayer hue; 

Beneath the magic touch of spring 
Belief and courage bloomed anew. 



GATHERING TRAILING ARBUTUS. 6q 

Among all blossoms of the fields, 

Say, where shall I another find. 
Whose sweetness thus the senses charms, 

Whose energies content the mind ? 

The year's brave messenger, that tells 

Of present good, and good to be ; 
Whose brief companionship excites 

The brave desire in you and me ; 

That we might cast old habits off 

To let a nobler growth appear ; 
And greet all seasons with the thought, 

" The flower is here ! the flower is here." 



UNDINE. 

SAD is her fate, whose soul to growth attains 
Beneath the silent burden of love's cross : 
Whose immortalities unlearned of joy, 

Spring from the ground of suffering and loss 

But sadder far must be the fate of her. 

Who neither knows love's anguish nor delight ; 

W^hose soul unresting keeps its aimless way, 
Circling its lonely self in songless flight. 

Bethesda for its living virtue waits, 

Unconscious of the blessed power and sign. 

Till the love-angel from the heights descends. 
And troubles it with bliss and pain divine. 



w 



A BUTTERFLY IN AUTUMN. 

HY dost thou linger drooping and alone, 
When from the tield and grove thy mates have 
flown, 
And summer's latest bloom 
Fades from her shrines o'erthrown? 



The foliage far and near its death-stain wears. 
The starling's scarlet wing fans other airs, 
The bee is housed away 
With all his honeyed cares. 

Alas for thee, when winter draweth nigh ! 
When chilling winds are speeding roughly by, 

And twilight's shivering star 

So soon usurps the sky. 



72 A BUTTERFLY IN AUTUMN. 

Those were thy days, the days of burning heart, 
That waked the early dawn in haste to start, 

And loitered on the hills 

Reluctant to depart. 

Then, thou didst gayly flutter to and fro, 
The lily fed thee from her cup of snow, 

The rose on thee would wait 

Her sweetness to bestow. 

Sailing above the meadows daisy-strown. 
Or, in the fervid noontide languid grown, 
Rocking on thistle-beds 
By zephyrs glad o'erblown ; — 

Pursuing all things beautiful and bright — 
That was thy morning hour of joy and light ; 

Now thou art left to know 

The meaning of the iHght. 



A BUTTERFLY IN AUTUMN. 73 

And for such knowledge, by such teaching brought, 
I give thy fate this one memorial thought; 

For pain hath rarer tones 

Than pleasure ever caught. 

And while the earthly destinies go by 
And fail life's latent longing to supply, 

Glad welcome pays to death 

Its need to satisfy. 



THE SAXIFRAGE. 

ON the hill-side bleak and barren, 
Where the northern gales are blowing 
Where the rugged soil is granting 
Scanty liberty for growing : 

There the saxifrage is springing, 
All its blossoms grouped together, 

Braving in fraternal union 

Every stress of wind and weather. 

Clinging to its isolation, 

NursHng of the rock and shadow, 
Heedless of the flowery revel 

In the green and sunny meadow. 



THE SAXIFRAGE. 75 

Brighter bloom and rarer fragrance 
Thoughtful souls would oft surrender. 

For the fairer meanings breathing 

Round its presence strong and tender. 

Spirit, through all Nature teaching, 

In this simple guise is showing, 
That where'er a life is planted; 

Still there's room enouijh for growing. 



THE LOVER'S QUESTION. 

THE morning dew-drop the sunbeam greets, 
In tremulous flush of surprise and glee. 
Picturing worlds in its newness of light ; 

Say, dearest, thus would you brighten for me? 
And reveal life to me? 

The vine forsakes the immovable rock, 

To climb and cling to the wind-swept tree, 

Lavishing endless enchantment and bloom ; 
Sa}^ dearest, thus would you cling to me? 
And thus bloom for me? 

The rivulet hastes on its shining track, 

To blend with the stream and flow on to the sea. 



THE lover's question. 77 

Ever a fuller accordance to chime; 

Say, dearest, thus would you hasten to me? 
And accord with me ? 

And if Heaven should claim you beyond recall, 

Proffering state in diviner degree, 
Would you turn from the angels unsatisfied ? 

Say, dearest, still would you dream of me? 
And still wait for me? 



THE BROOK. 

OVER the hills where the grassy uplands 
Slope and reach to the greenwood's edge, 
I know where a slender brook comes stealing 
Down the rugged ways of a rocky ledge ; 

And hastens onward through verdant hollows, 
And sun-browned pastures where cattle graze. 

Till, under the cangle of distant thickets 
It hides away from my curious gaze. 

But, whether among the rough rocks groping. 
In narrow channels too rudely bent. 

Trampled by flocks in the thirsty noontide. 
To lowliest service its being lent ; 



THE BROOK. 79 

Or, smoothly gliding through silvery shallows, 
Where blossoms are bending its waves to meet, 

Where birds are flitting, and insects humming. 
And time is moving to measures sweet; 

This truth it finds, that from o^•ercoming 

Springs stronger impulse, and deepening flow. 

And tuneful spirits of joy and blessing 
To follow its waters wherever they go. 

O wisest of streamlets ! that thus is showing 
Such uses and beauty from good and ill ; 

All changes of life into music turning, 
One purpose of gladness pursuing still. 



GOING EARLY. 

LET me depart while all around are praying 
Their warm petitions for my farther staying 
While yet affection keeps its smile of beauty, 
Nor yields its ministries to slow-paced duty. 

Life were no jewel but for love's fond setting, 
Death were not cruel with love's fond regretting ; 
I would not linger till its lights are shaded, 
And all the freshness of its colors faded. 

I would go early, while the gladsome summer 
Bright welcome gives to every flowery comer ; 
Ere winter reigns with sad -eyed melancholy, 
Crushing the voses 'neath his thorn-edged holly. 



GOING EARLY. 8l 

While yet all fruits are sweetest to the tasting, 
And youthful hopes have known no bitter wasting, 
And pleasure's sparkling cup stands overflowing, 
With untired feet I hasten to my going. 

Earth thou art fair, with joys forever flying, 
Heaven thou art fairer, with thy joys undying. 
The flickering star of morning I surrender, 
To bask in noontide of eternal splendor. 



ATALANTA. 

MYTHIC maiden, fleet and free, 
Stay not in thy beauteous flight, 
While thy glances backward cast 
Ever to pursuit invite. 

Thou dost wear enchantment's form 

To expectant heart and eye, 
Hasten, lest thy charm be lost 

When thy wooers gather nigh. 

Keep thy courage, lover true, 

Wait not in the eager chase, 
Seek with fond, unwearied strength 

Gift and spell to tempt her grace. 



ATLANTA. 

Bring from far Hesperian lands 
Golden fruit to strow her way; 

What though dragons guard it well? 
Love hath braver arts than they. 

If attainment came with ease, 
Could the life from passion rest, 

If its need demanded not 
Mortal and immortal quest; 

What were left? alas, to know 
When the best is told and done, 

That pursuit affords delights 
Keener than its objects won. 



83 



EACH IN ITS SPHERE. 

• /^"^OULD I choose," dreamed the rose, "like the bird 

^-^ I would warble. 

And sit on the tree-top, and breezily swing ; 
On swift wings I'd fly from all bleak wind and weather 

And follow forever the joy of the spring." 

" How fair," sung the bird, " like the rose in the garden 
To blossom in beauty the bright summer through. 

Unconsciously stealing at noontide and twihght 
The secret of sweetness from sunbeam and dew." 

Cried the child, " Oh ! 'twere royal to shine like the planet, 
Illumining worlds with my far-glancing rays, 

While tempest and conflict rolled onward beneath me, 
And ages revolved with their numberless days." 



EACH IN ITS SPHERE. 85 

While breathes a response from the deep heart of 
Nature, 

The mother that careth for one and for all, 
"Each life is my own, that I bear in my bosom. 

The stronger and weaker, the great and the small. 

In lowliest duty, in highest expression, 

In music and fragrance, in light and in word, 

Each one in its sphere is my purpose fulfilling. 
The child and the planet, the blossom and bird." 



HER CHOICE. 

NAUGHT are houses and lands to me, 
Empty are titles of highest degree. 
False are all gifts of the earth below. 
If unmated my heart must go." 

Thus she declared, the wilful young maid, 
In the flush of her joy and beauty arrayed, 
And laughed and sung in her spring-time sweet 
While the pearls of fortune fell round her feet. 

Till Love, her master, and sworn ally, 
Sought her intent her allegiance to try. 
And bravely loyal she gave her hand 
To one undowered with crold or land. 



HER CHOICE. 



87 



Then with arms unjewelled, and hair uncurled, 
Out of the sig-ht of the envious world, 
Laui^hing at poverty's stings she went 
The path she had chosen with still content. 

And through weal and woe, in Love's strength and 

truth 
She sung the song of her beautiful youth, 
" False are all gifts of the earth below. 
If unmated the heart must go." 



WE HAVE NEED OF ALL THESE THINGS." 

HOW time each trial justifies, 
And final compensation brings, 
In teaching our reluctant hearts 
That — "We have need of all these things." 

Though sad regrets pursue our ways, 

And secret grief the spirit wrings, 
We weep and wait, to find at length 

That — " We have need of all these things." 

Beneath our daily cares depressed 

We scarce can lift our earth-bound wings ; 

Yet may not lay our burden off. 

For — "We have need of all these things." 



"WE HAVE NEED OF ALL THESE THINGS." 89 

Though seemingly our bitterest fruit 

Most closely to the branches clings ; 
Some sweet the harvest must afford, 

Since — "We have need of all these things. " 

Each draught of pain that seeks our lips, 

Flows upward from eternal springs, 
With strengthening power, when we can trust 

That — " We have need of all these things." 

And when belief o'errules the will, 

The angel in us stirs, and sings, 
" Come victory or defeat, 'tis well ! 

For we have need of all these things." 



WHEN I AM GONE. 

OH ! to think when 1 am gone, 
All life's movements must go on, 
In their order and degree, 
Making no delay for me. 

Time will heal the wound I make, 
Friends another friend will take. 
Love that sought my answer once, 
Otherwhere will seek response. 

Springs will open as of old. 
Leaf and blossom will unfold, 
And the thrushes warble clear, 
When I long have ceased to hear. 



WHEN I AM GONE. 9' 

If I'm present 'neath these skies, 
Clinging fast to human ties, 
Or am absent and forgot, 
Cruel Nature careth not. 



Shall I take departure fraught 
With this cold, accusing thought ? 
Shall I go unreconciled, 
When the mother calls her child? 

I have found her gifts too sweet 
Now to count them incomplete; 
To her law I bend my will. 
Every service to fulfil. 

She will take me to her heart, 
Make me of herself a part, 
Blend me with her growths and airs 
While my being onward fares. 



92 



WHEN I AM GONE. 

Somewhere in the life-domain 
I shall feel and think again, 
And more clearly learn and prove 
Forms of beauty, truth and love. 

Wherefore then should I repine 
Lower senses to resign, 
P'^or a nobler range of powers? 
Earthly weeds for Heavenly flowers ? 

Place and use last with the soul 
Under Infinite control ; 
On this thought my weakness leans, 
Trusting for the ways and means. 



THE SEEKER. 

" T will not stay to gather these 

X Poor blossoms of the passing hour, 

On yonder starry heights afar 
I seek a peerless flower." 

He breathes the breath of loftier airs, 
His footstep spurns the level plain, 

While Nature's everyday delights 
Around him tempt in vain. 

The clarion-call within his breast, 
With pealing echoes loud and long 

Drowns the sweet murmur of the brooks, 
The wild birds' morning song. 



94 THE SEEKER. 

He rests not from the fervid noon 
In cooling screen of tree or rock; — 

The nectared fruits beside the way 
His hunger only mock. 

The tempests beat upon his head. 
His path o'er gulf and torrent lies, 

The blossoms fade, the verdure fails. 
Chilled by the glacial skies. 

The day declines along the slopes 

With warning shade against his cheek 

The race is won, he stands alone 
Upon an ice-clad peak. 

Alone beneath the alien stars 
Enthroned in crystal state apart ; 

Alas ! what life is here to fill 
The voidness of a heart ? 



THE SEEKER. 95 

Now, softly o'er his senses steal 

The memories of his native grove, 
Where Beauty slept, and only lacked 

The wakening touch of love. 

O blissful world so far away, 

All rainbow-spanned in sun and shower! 
O fields elysian ! where unsought 

There grew the peerless flower. " 

And dreaming still, with backward gaze 
Fixed on the long-lost vales below. 

The worn-out seeker sinks to sleep 
Upon the eternal snow. 



DOUBT. 

THE wind blows gayly from the South 
To kiss the rose's fresh young mouth, 
And nestle in her glowing heart ; 
But when the first bright tints are gone 
He strips the petals one by one, 
Disdainful, eager to depart. 

Art thou thus, Love? dost thou but care 
For dimpled cheek and golden hair, 
The darlings of the morning hours ? 
And when the days are sad with change. 
And colors pale, wilt thou grow strange, 
Forgetful of life's faded flowers ? 



97 



I give my soul to doubts, and fears 
Of wasted faith and lonely years ; — 
And then, and then, beneath thy smile, 
In sweet content that questions not 
I turn and take thy proffered lot. 
If only for a little while. 



AUTUMN SONG. 

A SPIRIT hovers in the air, 
Foreshadowing changes everywhere 
Whispers of coming loss and blight. 
And sings in varied minor keys 
Of beauty passing out of sight. 



The rose so lately fine and red. 
Her petals to the winds has shed. 
And rustles by the thicket's side 
In withered foliage forlorn, 
Too scant her faded boughs to hide. 



AUTUMN SONG. 99 

The brook that laughed, and ran away 
So fast and far, from day to day, 
In haste the Httle lake to fill 
That waits a constant fresh supply- 
Shut in the hollows green and still; 



Now loiters, choked and tangled so 
It scarce can see which path to go. 
And over every hindering stone 
Repeats its plaintive roundelay 
Of happier hours, and 'pleasures flown. 



The velvet-coated bee that flew 

From bloom to bloom, and deftly drew 

From each its tiny drop of sweet 

To furnish full his distant hive. 

Now rests unseen, his work complete. 



lOO AUTUMN SONG. 

A painter 'neath the trees has strolled, 

And brushed their leaves with red and gold, 

And loosened them in glowing maze 

To flutter down the wilful gale 

And carpet thick the woodland ways. 



With dreamful sense the morning wakes. 
And veiled in haze the sky-road takes, 
While through the night-time long and lone 
The sleepless cricket keeps the watch. 
With shrill, unceasing monotone. 



Ah ! for the spirit in the air 
Foreshadowing changes everywhere ; 
Whispering of coming loss and blight, 
Singing in varied minor keys 
Of beauty passing out of sight. 



I 



BESIDE A GRAVE. 

IS this cold chamber of common earth 
All that we gain from the earthly years ? 
Is this the end of all beauty and worth? 
Of all that life sought amid raptures and tears ? 

Ah ! never a grave that the mortal can make 

With art's highest grandeur encompassed around, 

Which the winds of time shall crumble and shake, 
Such values can hold in its piteous bound. 

There must be a land for the souls of men, 
Old as their reed, yet immortally new, 

Where the flower of their being shall blossom again, 
Fed with eternal sunshine and dew. 



102 BESIDE A GRAVE. 

Where bosomed in peace shall anguish find rest, 
Where thought in the Hght shall forever ascend, 

Where aspiration may gather its best, 

And love meet lover, and friend meet friend. 

Yet, bounteous Nature, be true to thine own; 

With gladness of green spread thy children's low bed ; 
Let roses and lilies be over them strown, 

And sweet airy anthems above them be said. 

Take the dust, but no more of the creature is thine; 

With vision uplifted I follow afar 
My treasure and hope to a country divine, 

Beyond the blue ether, beyond the last star. 



THE MOTHER'S CHILD. 

JUST six months old, and so unlearned, 
So innocent in worldly ways. 
That any lamb or kitten more 
Sagacity displays. 

But who complains because the bud 
Is not the perfect flower, full-grown? 

I find my joy in this delay 
That keeps him all my own. 

If he could talk, some angry word 

Might fret and grieve me every day ; 
Now, his sweet silence when I speak 
Consents to all I say. 



104 * THE mother's CHILD 

If he could walk, some wild desire 

Might lead his footsteps far from me ; 
Now, what are heights and powers to him ? 
His throne is on my knee. 

Alas ! how soon my king will haste 
To abdicate the crown he wears, 
And pluck the fruits of bitter taste 
The tree of knowledge bears. 

Howe'er my prescient gaze surveys 

The Future's dim, mysterious land, 
I see him borne away from me 
By time's resistless hand. 

Pursuing his unresting course 

I see him merged in school-boy life, 
With forehead bruised, and jacket torn. 
The marks of pain and strife. 



THE mother's child. IO5 

And younger, brighter eyes than mine 

Will steal his manly heart away, 
And care and age will seek him out. 
And make him sad and gray. 

How gladly from such views I turn, 
On nearer ones to fix my glance. 
Rejoicing in his present state 
Of happy ignorance. 

So, Baby! come and fill my arms, 

And charm me with your mute replies ; 
Be wholly mine to-day, for soon 
You'll be too old and wise. 



RECOGNITION. 

WHEN I have left thee for long, weary days, 
That lengthened into wearier months and years, 
Have I not found thee in thy wonted ways, 

With all thy tones and gestures, smiles and tears ? 

Even so our instincts in their human bound 
Can keep love's image fadeless and compkte, 

Through every chance and change of earthly round, 
And conquer time with recognition sweet. 

And if I first, with voice and vision flown, 

Should slip beyond your reach through death's white gate, 

To track companionless the vast unknown. 
Leaving thee here to follow soon or late; 



RECOGNITION. IO7 

Then, led and taught by sequence infinite 

In Heavenly knowledge, such as angels share, 

When thou shouldst come, I will not doubt the light 
O my beloved ! to meet and know thee there. 



APPLES. 

EVERYWHERE in northern lands 
Where an equal law commands, 
Tempering the suns and snows; 
True and constant in its mood, 
Planned in Nature's rectitude. 
There and thus, the apple grows. 

When the genial skies of May 
Warmer beam from day to day, 
Then awakes the parent-tree ; 
Crowns itself with bud and bloom. 
Rich with color and perfume, 
Haunted oft by bird and bee. 



109 



Soon the winds with blast of fate 
Rend away the robe of state, 
Crush the glorious diadem ; 
But this beauty used ajid passed 
Leaves the germs of fruitage fast 
Clinging to the faithful stem. 

Summer with benignant power 
Grants propitious sun and shower, 
Gives each heart its essence due, 
Paints each slowly rounding cheek 
Fair with many a stain and streak, 
Thus perfecting form and hue. 

Vagrant cattle as they pass 
Search amid the tangled grass 
For the apples ripe and red ; 
School-boys with discerning eye 
Seek the rosiest, hanging high 
In the branches overhead. 



no 



Busy hands with grateful care 
From the fields and orchards bear 
Autumn's plenteous, golden store ; 
Stripped by winds in reckless glee, 
Soon the patient parent-tree 
Stands all bare and brown once more. 

But when wintry stars gleam bright. 

And the house fires are a-light, 

Then its fruits again appear ; 

As a benediction shed 

By the spring and summer fled, 

Bringing back their hope and cheer. 



TELL ME. 

TELL me how the blue-bird sings. 
Balanced high on yonder tree, 
Flinging to the hungry winds 
All his grief or ecstasy? 

Tell me how the cherries grow, 
Nodding by the window-pane, 

Gathering from day and night 

Nectared juice and crniison stain ? 

Tell me how the tints are caught 
In the bosom of the shell? 

Tell me what the perfume means 
Breathing from the lily-bell? 



Tell me how the sunbeam shines? 

How the crystal form is wrought ? 
How electric currents move ? 

Tell how thought responds to thought ? 

Who shall tell me what I ask? 

Who the heights and depths may scan 
So to lift the veil that hides 

Nature's primal touch from man ? 

Language vainly seeks to reach 

This celestial range of arts ; 
"Tell me!" is the ceaseless cry 

Rising from unanswered hearts. 



THE PRESENT HEAVEN. 

OUR seasons pass with half their harvests wasted, 
O'ergrown with doubts and fears ; 
With their most sacred hopes unreached, untasted, 
Delayed beyond the years. 

Not thus should our ideals wait fruition 

Till sphered with seraphim ; 
Since, men or angels, in whate'er condition, 

We may abide with Him. 

We dwell on high, when victors in believing 

Our wills to His resign, 
When we still trust through giving and bereaving, 

A Law, a Love Divine. 



114 THE PRESENT HEAVEN. 

Along the dusty paths of earth up-stealing, 

Are Heavenly blossoms found 
By all the searchers of His ways, revealing 

This too as holy ground. 

Oh ! not alone in worlds of future knowing 

The Infinite is won ; 
The present moment fitly spent is showing 

Eternal joys begun. 



A WINTER VIEW. 

A cold gray sky hangs overhead, 
The woods and fields a shadow wear, 
No moods of passion or delight 
Stir the still pulses of the air. 

Gone is the fair disguise that held 

The mystery of form concealed, 
And every sculptured line and curve 

In true proportion lies revealed. 

So while external splendors fade, 

To-day another glory knows, 
The gloiy of consummate strength 

In pure completeness of repose. 



Il6 A WINTER VIEW. 

No blithesome tales are uttered now 
To blithesome listeners far and near, 

But gracious memories softly rise 
And fill with peace the patient year. 

In each expressive shape I trace 
Its leaning on a latent power, 

Its waiting with untiring hope 
The dawning of a triumph hour. 

The stately trees accepting fate, 
And standing in their pride alone. 

The ice-locked brook, the lowly brier 
Clasping its arms about a stone ; 

Whisper of Nature's boundless love, 

That underlying all her art 
Now pours her raptures on the winds. 

Now hoards them in her mighty heart. 



A WINTER VIP:W. H7 

For rest and motion, light and dark, 

In equal joy to her belong. 
And all the uses of the hours 

Accord in her eternal song. 

Then what are cold and clouded skies? 

The limits of this landscape drear? 
To-day contains all summers past. 

The drama of the world is here. 



RENEWAL. 

OFAIR, new world ! whose germs unfold 
From the dim chaos of the old ! 
I watch with questioning heart and eyes 
While Nature paints afresh the skies, 
And all her May-time fancies weaves 
O'er last year's withered grass and leaves. 

Waked from their wintry dream of death, 
Her blossoms blow with odorous breath. 
Her birds forget their exile long 
In this return to love and song. 
Her sunshine poured upon the hills 
With conscious bliss all beine fills. 



RENEWAL. . 119 

O earth! could I win back like you 
Spring, with its carol, flower and dew, 
And 'neath their beauty hide away 
The dust and darkness of decay. 
The sense and shadow of regret, 
And in the new the old forget! 

But I with no recall, to time 
Must yield my spring, my summer's prime , 
The heart's rose blooms but once, ah, me ! 
The ripened fruit drops from the tree, 
The frost and snow above them fall. 
And hold them fast in endless thrall. 

Yet, Nature though she make me weep 
By taking what I fain would keep. 
Still, whispers sweetly through her scorn, 
" Rest in thy part, my noblest born. 
Thine the diviner gift, tliat brings 
Renewal in eternal springs." 



VERSES FOR CHILDREN. 




DRIVING HOME THE COWS. 

LOW in the sky the last sunbeams are shining, 
Sprinkling their gokl through the apple-tree boughs 
Tie up your shoes, and put on your hat, Bobby, 
And we'll go together, and drive home the cows. 



This is the way, through the lane, by the orchard. 

Across the stone-bridge, where the brook waters flow ; 

Then we'll let down the bars, and leave the road open. 
And over the iiills to the jiastures below. 



124 DRIVING HOME THE COWS. 

Here is the path where they go in the morning, 
Cropping the clover and fresh dewy grass ; 

pjrushing the sweet-fern and bayberry bushes 

That shed their faint perfume on all things that pass. 

Yonder they're waiting, at rest in the hollow, 

Under the walnut-trees shady and tall ; 
You call them, Bobby, while I pick the lilies, 

And white meadow-rue, clustered here by the wall. 

Dolly starts quickly, her keen mother-instinct 
Urging her home her young bossy to meet ; 

While Brindle and Buttercup, Daisy and Jewel, 
Come after her, pacing with tardier feet. 

And thus, by the pathways of morning returning. 
They wind round the hill-side an orderly band. 

Past orchard and brook, till they reach their night-haven. 
Where Bridget awaits them with milk-pail in hand. 



DRIVrNG HOME THE COWS. I25 

Look ! here on the fence is the nest of a robin, 



We'll watch while she's feeding her three hungry birdlings, 
And tucking them under her wings for the night. 



Now homeward we'll haste, as the twilight grows deeper, 
And evening's fair star glimmers soft in the west ; 

For soon little boys like the cows and the robins, 
With work and play ended must go to their rest. 



I 



"WHAT I WOULD DO/' 

F I were a bird, I would warble a song 

The sweetest and finest that ever was heard, 



And build me a nest on the swinging elm-tree 
Oh, that's what I'd do if I were a bird. 



If I were a flower, I'd hasten to bloom. 

And make myself beautiful all the day through 

With drinking the sunshine, the wind, and the rain ; 
Oh, if I were a flower that's what I would do. 

If I were a brook, I would sparkle and dance 

Among the green fields where sheep and lambs stray, 

And call, " Little lambkins, come hither, and drink ! " 
Oh, if I were a brook that is what I would say. 



"WHAT I WOULD DO." 127 

If I were a star, I would shine wide and bright 
To guide the lone sailors on oceans afar, 

And travelers lost in the deserts and woods ; 
Oh, that's what I'd do if I were a star. 

But I know that for me other tasks liave been set. 
For I am a child, and can nothing else be ; 

I must sit at my lessons, and day after day 
Learn to read and to spell, and add one, two and three. 

Yet perhaps, by my books I shall sometime tind out 
How the birds sing so sweet, how the roses grow red, 

What the merry brook says to the moss-covered stones, 
And what makes the stars stay so high overhead. 



SECOND CHILDHOOD. 

POOR old Grandma, full of ills 
That her ninety years have wrolight. 
Dull of hearing, dim of sight, 

Slow and wandering in her thought ; 

Sits with patient, folded hands 

In her ancient chair all day. 
With her earthly labors done, 

Waiting to be called away. 

While her youngest grandchild Rose, 
Bright-eyed maiden, good as fair, 

Is the sunshine of her life, 

Hoverinir round with lovingf care. 



SECOND CHILDHOOD. 129 

Sweet companionship they hold, 

Talking- of the old, old time; 
For the grandame's heart abides 

With the treasures of her prime. 

Gorgeous tlovvers may bloom To-day, 

But a charm they lack, in truth ; 
Those delight her most that grew 

In the gardens of her Youth. 

So the little daughter brings 

Spicy mints, and balm and sage. 
In neglected corners found, 

Favorites of a by-gone age. 

Oft the grandame pleased and sad, 
Strokes her head with tender hand, 

Saying, " 'Tis my time to go 
To the far-off, better land. 



130 SECOND CHILDHOOD. 

" I shall leave my darling here, 
And when she is old and gray 

Some dear child may be to her 
Precious comforter and stay." 

But the angels pass her by, 

Leave her weary, worn and old, 

Gathering Rose, another lamb 

For the Heavenly Shepherd's fold. 

One sweet thought poor Grandma's mind 
From its sorrow can divide ; — 

'• 1 shall not be lonely now 
When I reach the other side. 

" Many faces I've forgot. 
For they went so long ago; 

But this darling, last and best, 
I am sure that I shall know." 



SECOND CHILDHOOD. 131 



So she sits with patient smiles 
In her ancient chair all day, 

Every earthly tie dissolved, 
Waiting to be called away. 



PAT'S DOLL. 

POOR little Pat is so sickly and lame 
He never has walked as other boys do; 
But he lies in his bed, or sits in his chair, 
Summer and winter, the whole year through. 

■• 

Nothing he sees of the great wide world 

From his chamber window so narrow and high, 

But the dusty houses, and dustier streets. 
And a sunless strip of the cold northern sky. 

Sometimes he watches with curious eyes 
His sturdy young cousins Teddy and Mike, 

Wading in puddles, and sailing chip-boats. 

And he cannot guess what such pleasures are like. 



pat's doll. 133 

Many long hours alone he must stay, 

While the hard-working mother goes out here and there 
Washing and scrubbing, the money to earn 

That furnishes scanty shelter and fare. 

But a strange thing happened not long ago, 
A messenger came, and left at the door 

A doll, of wonderful beauty and size, 

And, " A present for Pat," was the mark that it bore. 

O what delight! for a desolate heart 
To claim for its own a creature so fair. 

With her mouth forever so smihng and sweet, 

With her round rosy cheeks, and soft flaxen hair ! 

Pride and happiness lift him as high 
As ever the heir of a throne could be, 

When he holds her up to the dingy pane, 
For the urchins Teddy and Mike to see. 



134 pat's doll. 

Now he believes what the old stories tell, 
How the small fairies appear now and then. 

Bringing large gifts in mysterious ways 

To cheer and comfort the children of men. 

Oh ! how she blesses and brightens the days, 
Softening the hardships of hunger and cold ; 

How the good spirits above and below 
He thanks for this treasure to have and to hold. 



BIRDS IN AUTUMN. 

DEAR little birds, 'tis your time to go 
Ere the winter comes with its drifting snow 
The beautiful work of summer is done, 
And you must follow the track of the sun. 

The leaves fall fast through the hazy air. 
And the tree-tops rustle deserted and bare, 
While the nests you builded in joyful May 
The winds have carelessly scattered away. 

Bee and butterfly seek no more 

'Mid honeyed blossoms their food and store, 

For the flower-stalks lie on the cold, brown earth, 

Crushed by the frosts in their pitiless mirth. 



136 BIRDS IN AUTUMN. 

There are southern lands where gardens still grow. 
While soft warm breezes about them blow; 
Where fruits hang ripe in the sun's full rays, 
And shed their sweets through the long, bright days. 

The cricket chirps loudly, " Haste, do not delay ! " 
And the groves of the South call, " Come, come away ! " 
You shall reach fairer shores on unerring wing, 
Then go little birds, and return with the spring. 



THE DEAD HORSE. 

DEAD ! Our Fanny, the gentle horse 
That kept so long on her faithful way, 
And carried her master over the roads. 

Through storms and sunshine, from day to day. 

All the village places were known to her, 

Often she visited market and mill, 
Going wherever her duty might call. 

With a steady pace and contented will. 

One brook she loved, whose waters come down 
From higher meadows, with shadow and gleam, 

Down past the willow, the iris and rose, 
Hurrying on to a larger stream. 



138 THE DEAD HORSE. 

Here she would pause, and mutely entreat 
Permission to taste the exhilarant tide ; 

Lingering fondly amid the waves 
That prattled and tempted on every side. 

Many a traveler trudging on foot 

Hailed her approach as a vision of cheer ; 

And never was loitering boy afraid 
A ride to solicit when she drew near. 

Still flows the brook from its hidden springs, 
Past willow and iris, with shadow and gleam ; 

But the horse that loved it is seen no more, 
Her life is merged in the larger stream. 

Out in the orchard her grave is made, 

Where in the spring-time the white blossoms blow. 
Where in the summer the oriole sings. 

Where in the autumn the apples hang low. 



THE DEAD HORSE. 1 39 

Though Others as worthy may come and go, 
With friends their virtues and graces to tell, 

None in our hearts can ever displace 
This gentle old Fanny, we knew so well. 



RED-KIDING-HOOD. 

WHEN will the quaint old story lose its charm ? 
The story of the little artless maid, 
Who all too innocent to dream of harm 
Met danger unafraid. 

Fair as we fancy angels, and as good, 

Who has not seen her in youth's fairy-land 

Wrapped in her scarlet cloak and dainty hood, 
With basket in her hand ? 

Who has not followed her as thus she trips 
Along her way with quick, unconscious feet, 

With merry songs upon her rosy lips. 
Or laughter gay and sweet ? 



RED-RIDING-HOOD. 

Intent on ministries of love and cheer. 
Her eager thoughts fly bird-Hke on before 

To where the lonely grandame waits to hear 
Her light touch at the door. 

Against her cunning foe she asks no shield, 
His snares excite nor terror nor surprise ; 

Alike are shadowy wood and open field 
Beheld with guileless eyes. 

As on she goes unmindful of the gloom, 
Such Heavenly graces all her ways endue 

That flowers might choose beneath her steps to bloom, 
Of beauty strange and new. 

Immortal type of innocence and truth ! 

Long as aff"ections gather round the good, 
The dwellers in the fairy-land of Youth 

Shall love Rcd-Riding-Hood. 



141 



GIVE AND TAKE. 

BRINDLE loiters home at eve, 
Answering her milking-cal), 
Snatching mouthfuls as she goes 
Of the grasses fresh and tall ; — 

Pauses gravely now and then, 
Breathing comfort in the air ; 

Rubs against a splintered rail, 
Leaving there a wisp of hair. 

Thus, at length she seeks her shed, 
Heedless of all consequence, 

Never knowing that she gave 
Such a treasure to the fence. 



OIVE AND TAKE. I43 

But a bird that lingered near 

Sees tlie gift with quick delight ; 
Gathers it, and bears it off 

To her chosen building-site. ^ 

There, with finest hay 'tis wrought 

To the shape that suits her best ; 
And the searching sunshine finds 

In the fields no fairer nest. 

Later, her maternal care 

Daily work and pleasure brings ; 
And at eventide she sits 

With her young ones 'neath her wings ; 

Watching with a grateful glance 

From her habitation small. 
Brindle loitering down the lane. 

Answering her niilking-call. 



CRADLE SONG. 

NOW with loving mother-touch 
Make the Baby's cradle-bed. 
On its pillow soft and white 

Gently lay his drooping head ; 
Up and down, up and down, 

Let the rockers smoothly go ; 
Down and up, down and up, 
Soothing him to slumber so. 



Now the hands their playthings drop, 

Losing all their little skill, 
And the weary eyelids close. 

And the rose-bud mouth is still : 



CRADLE SONG. 

Up and down, up and down, 
Let the rockers smoothly go ; 

Down and up, down and up, 
Soothing him to slumber so. 

Music from the mother-voice 

Breathes above him sweet and clear, 
Telling of the Heavenly Love, 

And of guardian angels near; 
Up and down, up and down. 

While the rockers smoothly go; 
Down and up, down and up, 

Soothing him to slumber so. 

Sunshine glare is screened away, 
Hushed is every sound of dread. 

Velvet-footed moves the world 

Round the cherished sleeper's bed ; 



145 



l46 CRADLE SONG. 

Up and down, up and down, 
While the rockers smoothly go 

Down and up, down and up, 
Soothinof hiin to slumber so. 



WISHING AND WORKING. 

*' y'-^OME, beautiful lily, come sweetest of blossoms," 
^^-^ Repeats the young wisher, outstretching his hand, 

" I long to possess you, but dread the dark water, 
Oh ! come to me where on the margin I stand : 

" For I am no swimmer, and own little knowledge 

In fitting a vessel or using an oar, 
My holiday raiment suits not rough adventure, 

Then, come to me here on the smooth, tranquil shore." 

•• Ah no ! " says the lily, " stand there on the margin 
Through daylight and darkness, I come not to you ; 

I keep in all seasons my distance and dangers. 
And wait for a conqueror valiant and true. 



l48 WISHING AND WORKING. 

" I watch for his coming, I know his behavior, 

He swims hke the wild-duck, and bounds like the deer 

He shrinks not for peril nor spoiling of raiment, 
And works with unwavering purpose and cheer. 

'' And when I behold him draw nearer, and nearer, 
I'll fail not to greet him with welcoming sweet ; 

For beauty's the guerdon of daring and labor, 
And gladly I'll lay all my worth at his feet." 



w 



GRANDMOTHER'S CAP. 

HAT has become of Grandmother's cap 

She spread with care on the grass one night, 
Close by the blossoming lilac-bush, 
To bleach in the dews and moonbeams white? 

Has human malice, or elfin guile 

Plundered the gossamer web in play? 

Or reckless winds from the east or west 
Wafted it far from her sight away? 

No answer comes to her faithful search 

From the earth-fields green, or the sky-fields Rlue 

And what has become of her finest cap 

Is Grandmother's wonder the summer through. 



50 grandmother's cap. 

The Robins could tell, Dame Redbreast knows, 
For at early dawn one morning in May 

Seeking her building-stores she came 
Where the bleaching lace 'mid the dew-drops lay, 

She seized it, and flew with her helpful mate 
To the half-made nest on the apple-tree. 

Where they deftly wove it with twigs and straws, 
Chatting and singing in frolicsome glee. 

But when the lilac, lily and rose 

Had bloomed and faded in retinue sweet. 

When summer birdlings were fledged and flown, 
And autumn winds round the hill-tops beat ; 

From the leafless bough of a gnarled old tree 
A nest was hanging in ruins forlorn. 

While a fluttering fragment of lace revealed 
Grandmother's head-dress spoiled and torn. 



grandmother's cap. 151 



With a frown she viewed the precious remains 

Of use and beauty alike bereft; 
But smiled soon at thought of the by-gone spring, 

The Redbreast pair and their mischievous theft. 



LITTLE SISTER. 

LITTLE Sister. Rooea in wnite, 
There with folded hands she lies. 
Breathless silence on her lips, 
Endless slumber on her eyes. 

Leaving earth with no regrets 
Clinging to her Heavenward feet, 

All tttat she has known of life 

Was to grow more fair and sweet. 

Yesterday she was our own ; 

Ours to comfort, love and teach ; 
Now she seems a wondrous star, 

Shining far beyond our reach. 



LITl'LE SISTER. 1 53 

Lay the scattered toys aside, 

Fold the little clothes away, 
Smooth the empty cradle-bed 

No more needed day by day ; — 

Angels shall attend her now 

With immortal food and rest. 
Leading her with tenderest care 

Through the gardens of the blessed. 



THE ORGAN PLAYER 

SEE, where he comes, the king of drudges 
With steady step, and dauntless mien. 
While at his side a princess trudges 
With castanets and tambourine. 



No threatened ills his realm besetting 
The sunny sky with shadows mock ; 

Her royal mood holds no regretting 
For shoeless feet and tattered frock. 

No claims have they to name or station, 
To house or lands, to state or town ; 

Unfixed by home or occupation 

They roam the country up and down. 



THE ORGAN PLAYER. I 55 

No dreams have they of high ambition, 

No cares of plenty or of pride, 
For thus endowed is their condition 

With ease to larger fates denied. 

They gayly laugh and talk together 

In their own sweet Italian tongue. 
As if earth knew no clouded weather, 

And life was ever glad and young. 

And oft at door and window staying 
They ring their changes o'er and o'er. 

While eager children list their playing 
With pence in hand to plead for more. 

And thus they glean in their progression 
Amid the wide world's harvest hours ; — 

A part of Summer's fair procession, 
To vanish with her birds and flowers. 



BROTHER'S BEDTIME. 

OVER the hill-tops has vanished the sun, 
Daytime is ended, the nighttime begun ; 
The moon with her countenance half turned away, 
Gives to the evening the best light she may. 

All weary creatures now haste to their home ; 
Up from the pastures the cattle have come ; 
The downy young chickens have gone to their rest, 
Under the hen-mother's wings softly pressed. 

Slowly the flowers their gay petals close. 

Gratefully yielding to dewy repose ; — 

The bee in the hollyhock lingering late, 

Is caught in her chamber till morning to wait. 



brother's bedtime. 157 

Up in the tree-branches leafy and dim 
Robins are chanting their sweet vesper hymn; 
Brightly the stars twinkle out in the blue, — 
' Come, little Brother, 'tis bedtime for you." 

Two tired hands let their playthings all go, 
Two tired feet up the stairway climb slow, 
Two tired eyes droop in slumber's eclipse, 
Good night," drops faintly from two tired hps. 

Soft be the pillow beneath his fair head. 
Light be the covering over him spread, 
Safety and Quiet, keep guard round the place! 
Fold him kind Sleep, in a gentle embrace ! 

Wandering dreams, hover gladly above ! 
Lead him through pathways of pleasure and love, 
Till darkness and silence in turn slip away, 
And morning recalls him to action and play. 



POP-CORN. 

BURIED in darkness under the ground 
Slowly its way to the light it found, 
And feeding on sunshine, rain and dew, 
Through all the long bright summer it grew 
Upward, alike amid calms and storms 
Living its life in visible forms, 
Shaping each leaf, and stalk and ear. 
Unconscious of harvest drawing near. 

And when its seasons were duly told, 
And the bountiful year was growing old, — 
Withered by heat, and chilled by frost, 
With all its freshness and beauty lost, 
'Twas borne from the desolate field away. 



POP- CORN. 159 

Husked and hidden from outer day, 

Safely to rest in its dim retreat, 

Till again it comes forth for the children to eat. 

This indeed is its tinal stage, 
As shelled and shut in an iron cage 
'Tis tossed and shaken in fiery heat. 
With every torture growing more sweet, 
rill all its heart expands to the light — 
Softened to tenderness, blossomed in white. 

We like the com must strive and toil 
To lift ourselves from the darkness and soil ; 
And, ah ! my children, you may be sure 
Some trials are good for us to endure, 
And for all that we cheerfully undergo 
Whiter and sweeter the heart will trrow. 



H 



THE SNOW-BIRD. 

"E is the Winter's child, 
And comes when winds are wild, 
When the sun hides his face, and skies aie sad 
Then, hurr^-ing- to and fro. 
Tracking the smooth new snow, 
He frolics in the storm, and finds life q;lad. 



He seeks in garden-walks 

The withered tiower-stalks, 
Whose secret treasures have the frost withstood 

And on the hoarded seeds 

In happy haste he feeds. 
Calls to his merry mates, and finds life good. 



THE SNOW-BIRD. l6l 

Open the window high, 

And scatter a supply 
Of generous crumbs, and bid him welcome here ; 

For pleasant is the sight, 

When earth is cold and white. 
To see this bonny wanderer hovering near. 



COUNTING THE COST. 

SEE this little girl walking the street, 
. Watch her twinkling, dainty-shod feet. 
How her eyes gleam unshadowed by care. 
How her face glows in the frosty air ! 

Look at her, lifting her gay silken skirt 
Out of the reach of the dampness and dirt. 
With the fairest hand that ever was hid 
In the delicate depths of a tiny kid. 

Her hat is made of the richest stuff, 
And she carries in triumph the smallest muft. 
Which she often fondles against her cheek. 
As if she would win it to feel and speak. 



COUNTING THE COST. 163 

Walking the street on its sunniest side, 
She does not dream in her holiday pride 
What kingdoms their tribute to her must pay, 
She counts not the cost of her l^rilHant array. 

. How the world is striving she does not know 
That art and beauty may live and grow, 
And the daily prices of utmost pain 
That life is giving its wealth to gain. 

Ah, careless maiden ! just think of that ! 
When you tie the strings of your jaunty hat 
With its ostrich feathers drooping down 
All round the buckled and banded crown. 

Think of the frightened bird that was chased 
Over the sands of a torrid waste, 
With the speed of a courser flying in- vain, 
For its precious plumage captured and slain. 



164 COUNTING THE COST. 

While the ravished spoils by relentless hands 

Were carried far off to distant lands, 

To deck with their fragile loveliness 

Such a thoughtless little girl's winter dress. 

No pictures are rising before her eyes 
Of eternal snows, and polar skies. 
And stalwart huntsmen in garments rude, 
Lords of the desolate solitude; — 

From out this region of darkness and cold 
Bringing warmth and comfort, splendor and gold, 
Sables of richness beyond compare. 
Ermines a princess might covet to wear. 

Walking through life on its sunniest side, 
She does not dream in her beauty and pride 
What kingdoms their tribute to her must pay. 
She counts not the' cost of her brilliant array. 



/ 




(FA- -fArf^K 



